


The Motion Of Taxis Excites Me

by MissMoochy



Series: MissMoochy's Spider-Man Bingo Oneshots [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Hand Jobs, M/M, POV Peter Parker, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Car, Spider-Man Bingo 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29770161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: Spider-Man Bingo prompt: [Drunk Sex]Peter and Wade fool around in the back of a cab.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: MissMoochy's Spider-Man Bingo Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187987
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53
Collections: Spider-Man Bingo 2021





	The Motion Of Taxis Excites Me

Sister Margaret’s was a shithole, to use one of Wade’s favourite words. But he loved it all the same. And it was one of the few places where Wade could be persuaded to remove his mask, so, for that reason, Peter loved it as well.

Wade liked drinking and Peter liked Wade, so it made sense. Of course, the merc had to work hard to actually get drunk, his aggressive healing powers soon nullified the effects of ‘normal’ alcohol. But he was inventive and had figured out ways to circumvent his pesky powers. He’d stirred up a concoction once, an energy drink, that he called Pool Fuel. It had more additives than liquid, and could get you jumping around the room after one glass. And he’d stolen a few bottles of Asgardian Ale from Thor, he would sometimes drop a tot of it in whatever he was drinking, to get him that extra kick.

So now, they were sitting here and Peter was getting drunk and fast. Wade could hold his liquor better than him, but he knew that was only because of his powers. Peter also had a healing power, too, but it was weaker. He’d got the better end of the deal, he thought.

Wade set down a rum and coke for him, and a beer for himself. Peter sipped it, watching people pass by their table. He’d been here so often that he’d sometimes get a nod or wave, depending on the friendliness of the mercenaries.

He drank, people-watching as he did so. Wade was perfectly at home here and it showed. He lounged in his chair, exchanged a few words with Weasel. Peter and Wade had started this night with jokes and conversation, still hyped up from their patrol earlier, but now, he felt sluggish and stupid and was content to just sit there.

The room glittered prettily, swimming in his bleary eyes and he grinned dopily at his friend. Wade grinned back. Yeah, that was a nice smile.

Wade topped up Peter’s drink with some of his beer, and it should have been gross, mixing drinks like that, but he didn’t care.

“You’re a bad influence, Wade,” Peter told him. But he said it with his mouth full, so his friend might not have heard him. It was a good night. Full of promise. They’d started well, the two of them. Drinking (on an empty stomach, in Peter’s case) in Wade’s favourite bar. Both men were incognito and he loved this rare chance to see Wade’s face. Wade knew the barman, a friend of his. The guy talked a big game about hating Wade, only tolerating him, but he slipped them free drinks now and then.

Peter sat there, across from Wade and they talked and goofed off. Toasted each other, clinked glasses. Toasted stupid stuff...Captain America, Captain America’s ass...the Statue of Liberty...their friendship…

“I like hanging out with you,” Peter said, smiling at him over his glass. Wade grinned broadly, bumped his boot against Peter’s sneaker, under the table. Silly.

 _We’re doing this again, aren’t we?_ The thought circled his head, in a loop. Brown eyes, perfect teeth, raising a glass in Peter’s direction. Toasting their friendship. _We’re doing this again._

He’s a sloppy drunk. Wade. He gulps obnoxiously, that big Adam’s apple bobbing his thick, bull-like neck. He buys bags of chips or peanuts and munches on them. Loudly. He’s like a cartoon character. And when he kicked out his legs beneath their table, long legs covered in dark denim, and bumped his boot against Peter’s sneaker. The first time he did it, Peter had assumed it was an accident. Wade wasn’t the most graceful guy around and yeah, he kind of lacked boundaries.

But that deliberate jostle of hard leather sole, rubbing against Peter’s toes, he knew what it was. Recognised it and witnessed that grin, the expression that almost seemed to say _Tell me to stop and I will. Dare you._

“One more for the road?” Wade said, plucking up both their glasses off the table. Peter nodded. He found that he really did want what Wade was offering.

* * *

They laughed as they left, clinging to each other, navigating the snaking lines of tables and chairs. Might have knocked a chair over during their glamorous exit, Peter wouldn’t have noticed. He clung to him, fingers digging into Wade’s leather jacket, as they struggled out into the night. The cold air hit his face and he instinctively burrowed his head in Wade’s chest, making the man chuckle.

“Mm, spiders don’t like the cold,” Wade murmured, his voice low and pleasingly mellow.

“No, you — you gotta keep spiders warm,” Peter told him, as Wade led them to a nearby taxi rank. This was familiar, it was safe and good. He didn’t need to be on guard with Wade. Who needs spider-sense when you’ve got Deadpool wrapped around you like a big fur coat?

Staggering in the gutter, splashing in puddles, damp ankles. And Wade kept pulling on his hand, leading him about. He was big and reassuring, a solid slab that blocked the cool air from whipping Peter’s face.

And Wade told him he’d got them a cab. _Mine or yours?_ He’d said. Mine or yours. A question that broke into parts, forked in two like a snake’s tongue. And Peter had had a word on his lips but then the yellow car slowed to a crawl beside them. And he’d said to Wade — _yours._ And he meant more than what he said. 

Wade pulled him in, giggling. Spread out on the cool seats, with the air conditioning blowing gentle puffs of air that felt pleasingly mellow on Peter’s flushed skin. He slumped against him, still giddy, a bundle of laughs unfurling in his chest. Happy and sloshy in his belly, beer and dizzy joy mingling together in a merry-go-round medley of emotion. The car veered left and Peter fell against Wade and that set him off again. Laughing, laughing, giggling on Wade’s shoulder.

Wade mumbled nonsense against Peter’s hair, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Spilling secrets in his curls, it all went over his head, couldn’t pierce the fog of drunkenness and worm its way into his brain. So, he chuckled and smiled and nodded, and when he turned his head, he let Wade kiss him. It baffled him but he didn’t dwell on it. Chapped lips on his own, an eager, wet tongue. He kissed back, something hot and scratchy pawing inside his gut, and he scrabbled around Wade’s thick neck, his broad back. Splayed his fingers, curled them and clutched. Needed to hold on and Wade was right there. 

He lacked grace when he was like this. Beer killed his inhibitions but it made him clumsy. He was desperate, kissing back and it was wet, sloppy. Wade sucked on his tongue, bit his neck, grabbed his ass. Squeezed him, held him in place. Snaked a hand down the opening of Peter’s jeans. The car lurched again and nausea welled in his belly but he took big gulps. He fancied he could smell his own arousal in the car. Something thick and salty, the smell of excitement and sex. Wade jerked him off in rough strokes, dry, and the angle wasn’t great, but he took it, rolling around on the backseat, arching in Wade’s grip. The car was still trundling along, and errant twists and lurches sent him sprawling, falling into Wade’s lap and clambering about in the backseat, finding shit to hang on to.

He didn’t care about being seen or what the driver must be thinking. Wasn’t even on his radar. He just knew that he felt good and Wade was making him feel better. He felt that uncoiling warmth and he came all over Wade’s fist. He watched dazedly as Wade wiped his hand on Peter’s jeans. 

He was exhausted, he hadn’t even realised. The satiation seeped into his veins, making him sluggish and sleepy. He slumped against his friend, snuffling and snuggling the fleecy collar of Wade’s jacket.


End file.
